Familiar
by TinkanaiT32
Summary: REVISED. Vash just got the greatest news of his life: he's going to be a bodyguard for his idol, a world famous classical musician. Roderich just got the worst news of his life: he's going to have a live-in bodyguard invading his space. They both meet with expectations, but both are confused when they can't shake off the feeling of familiarity...or attraction.
1. Chapter 1

_For those of you who do not yet know me. I am TinkanaiT32 AKA the Truthsayer of Fanfiction. I tell the dramatic truth, the whole dramatic truth, and nothing but the dramatic truth. My reviews are lengthy, legendary, and love-filled (Okay maybe not so much the middle but that's how I view it). __And for those who do know me..._

_Ello' Chick-a-dees! Long time no see..uh…write…er…you know what I mean! I missed you guys (and girls) like crazy. What began as enlightenment quickly grew into torture. Quit FF?! How in the world could I possibly do that? Answer: Obviously I couldn't. I tried really hard, but my OTPs and favorite authors just dragged me back in. _

_Now, I finally got my butt back into gear to revive my old stories __(as well as improve them of course). Hope it's better than you remember. Well Chick-a-dees…enjoy~_

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, that right belongs to the honorable Hidekazu Himaruya. Bless his heart**

**Prologue (1)**

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><p>Brown boots clacked against the linoleum floor as Vash Zwingli walked to the main conference room of the Intercontinental Protection Agency. Known to everyone as just IPA, it is a agency comprised of citizens from all over the world that are trained as bodyguards for the rich and famous. Since its establishment IPA is mostly known for its employees. Each member of the organization has a specialty and is proficient in at least 1 other language. Vash Zwingli is a sharpshooter of Swiss decent and is currently the top in his division despite being only 25 years old. The young determined man had climbed through the ranks immediately, completing the training academy in only 2 years instead of the average 4. As expected, being the best also means that he received the most interesting jobs. In fact he had just gotten a call no more than 10 minutes ago from his supervisor to tell him that a new assignment. He was dressed in 2 minutes, left his house in 1 minutes, and arrived at IPA in 6.<p>

As Vash approached the room, he let out a sigh as he could already hear the ruckus through the door. Rolling his shoulders and schooling his expression into one of indifference, he turned the doorknob and strode inside the room. It was even louder without the barrier of the door, but it was nothing new. Just members getting together and talking about the horrors of their last assignments or expressing their wishes of new ones. They all sat around a large rectangular table that sat 30 people easily and there was barely half that number there this time, the rest of the members still conducting their assignments.

As soon as Vash sat down in an unoccupied seat, he was immediately handed a large manila envelope that contained his newest mission. He sat it in front of him without looking and waited for their supervisor to come down and give his usual "You are the best of the best, so act like it and don't disgrace our agency" speech. With annoyance, green eyes took in his coworkers who couldn't wait and had already pulled out the documents of their envelopes.

Snatches of conversations floated over to Vash. A few seats down from him Antonio Carriedo, a human lie detector of Spanish decent, was practically gushing about his new assignment.

"I got Lovino Vargas! Yes!"

"Isn't that the brother of the famous chef Feliciano Vargas?" someone from the other side of the table asked, easily hearing his comment at the loud volume.

"Yes, the one and only." Brown eyes were filled with glee as they scanned the rest of the papers.

"Wait...isn't he also an Italian Mob Boss?"

"Si," Antonio sighed, slipping into his native tongue from excitement. Others around the table exchanged a confused glance, but didn't bring the Spaniard down from his high. It was common knowledge that IPA didn't discriminate against their clients, but each member also had their own set of morals. Still a job was a job, and if you were it better spirits the smoother it would move along.

From the other side of the table green eyes took in the sight of two blonds bickering over which of their missions featured the best celebrity.

"There's no way you have someone better than the artist Matthew Willams," Francis Bonnefoy, a French born polyglot, gloated. "Have you seen his works? Incroyable," Francis sighed. "That man's mind is ahead of his time."

"Oh yeah?" Arthur Kirkland, an English bone knife expert, challenged. "I have Wang Yao from the Shen Yun performing arts troupe. He's so graceful. Not to mention he could give you a run for your money in the looks department."

Blue eyes twinkled as Francis heard the last part of the sentence. "So you agree that I am beautiful, no?"

"Wh**-**what?" Arthur sputtered caught off guard by the comment. "Where in the bloody hell did you get that insane idea from?!"

"You just said, and I quote 'he could give you a run me a run for your money in the looks department' ergo you think I'm beautiful." He concluded with a smug look.

"Th-that's not...I didn't mean...y-you..." the Brit tried to force out the words but to no avail. The Frenchman only laughed at the other's expense.

Vash was startled from the conversation when a shrill scream erupted from right next to his ear. His normally impassive face transformed into a grimace as his ear drum protested the high pitched noise. Feliks, a master of disguise from Poland, was jumping up and down in glee.

"Oh my god, guess who I got! Go a head guess. You'll never guess, but like try anyway. Come on guess!" The effeminate blonde rattled on not even giving the others a chance to speak before he told them. "It's Gilbert Beilschmidt!"

"You mean the rock star?" Another agent clarified.

"Yes!" Feliks shouted strumming on a air guitar in an attempt at imitating the celebrity.

"That dude's a total douchebag," someone put in.

"With a hug ego," another added.

"Yeah, but he's a rich egotistical douchebag with a _mansion_," Feliks reasoned and there were nods around the table in agreement at the fact.

He might have said more on the subject, but at that time IPA's director walked into the room and there was immediate silence that followed. The time for joking around and rambunctious behavior was over. This was business. The director of the Intercontinental Protection Agency was a tall, blonde-haired blue-eyed retired US military officer named Alfred Jones. He cleared his throat before speaking.

"Okay, listen up. You guys aren't new at your job, you know what needs to be done, what should happen as well as what shouldn't," his deep voice filled the room. "Hopefully, we don't have another case like Ivan." Everyone cringed inwardly at the mention of the ex-member of the IPA. Ivan Braginsky had gotten romantically attached to his client. Unlike most organizations, in IPA fraternization wasn't illegal only frowned upon. Usually it was just better not to get involved in the first place and most IPA members stuck to that. Unfortunately for Ivan when he failed to protect his client and she died, he went crazy with grief, killing his lover's killers brutally with a lead pipe. He was now at a mental institution in Nevada.

"Don't forget you all are representing IPA," the director continued and everyone knew what was coming next. "You're the best of the best at what you do, so act like it and don't disgrace our agency." There was a pause for him to give each agent a stern look. "Inside the manila folders in your possession are the profiles of your clients. With the exception of a few it includes description of the job, the client's picture, background information, likes and dislikes yada yada yada. You know the drill. Read it, retain it, use it to complete your mission. Inside has the start date of your mission so prepare accordingly. You are dismissed."

And with that chairs scrapped against the floor as everyone got ready to leave. Conversations resumed and once again the noise level of the room rose. Vash had his envelope in one hand and was walking with purpose to the rooms exit when a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Vash!" A low voice called out and he turned to see Elizabeta Héderváry, a projectile expert from Hungary and one of IPAs few female members. "Who's your assignment? Wait, no I bet you didn't even look yet, did you?" She accused and got a roll of green eyes as her answer. "Oh come on, just peek at the name."

"I'll do it when I get home," Vash told her simply.

"Why not just do it now? Come on Vash, it'll literally take a second or three. Please? Please?!" Olive green eyes looked into his, begging for the other to do her bidding.

There was another roll of eyes, this time with a huff thrown in before Vash lifted the manila envelope in slow motion putting on a show for the brunette. Elizabeta snorted in an unlady like fashion, but said nothing. She was too busy happy the other was listening to her demands. So instead she watched the other's expressions like a hawk seeing if he would give away any clue as to his thoughts about his newest charge. Vash pulled the first paper out only halfway to see the profile picture and name, but paused for a different reason. There was no picture which was unusual but the name was very well known especially to the sharpshooter. Without his consent, his lips started to form a smile but he quickly schooled his features. Afterwards he pushed the papers back into the envelope, turned around and left without a word.

Elizabeta was too shocked by the small smile she had witnessed to yell at the other for not telling her who his client was. She clutched her own envelope to her person with shaky hands and left the room, all the while a bewildered expression adorned her face.

**5 minutes later...**

In the comfort of his own home and in his room Vash opened the envelope and pulled out all the contents. As he read the name once more, he finally let a full smile grace his features. Roderich Edelstein. World famous pianist...and Vash's biggest idol.

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><p><strong>Well, Chick-a-dees what do you think? Please review, otherwise how will I know if I suck or not. I'm open to criticism, and I aim to please.<strong>

**Ciao**


	2. Chapter 2

_Ello' Chick-a-dees I have a treat for you, a bonus chapter that wasn't featured in the original Familiar fanfic. Before that though let me give a special thanks to my reviewers: **loyal reader, WwLOLwW, **__**ZestyPeriwinkle****, and **__**theAwesomePurssia17**_ _As well as everyone that favorited this story. I was practically beaming from the responses for just the 1st chapter. Thank you all so much! A__nd now without further ado...enjoy~_

**Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the brilliant webcomic turned anime that is Hetalia...*sniff* Not even in my dreams**

**Prologue (2)**

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><p>Brown knee high boots clacked angrily against the floor and a long double breasted navy coat flared behind a tall brown-haired man as he stomped away from the office room, wishing that the last 15 minutes did not just happen. He approached the elevator located at the far side of the reception area and pressed the down arrow button 5 too many times, but needing to let out his frustration someway. When the elevator doors finally slide open, he entered and repeated the same process for the ground floor button. As the doors closed leaving his alone with his thoughts, he leaned against the reflective back wall and crossed his arms with a huff. Eyelids closed to hide violet orbs from view as the man thought about the ridiculous words that spewed from his boss's mouth not moments before. Hire a live-in bodyguard for him? So what if he got a few death threats in his fan mail?<p>

Roderich Edelstein was a classical musician contracted to Gentosha Inc. He was mainly a pianist, but also dabbled with the violin from time to time. He was well known around the world for his ballads, but more than that it was the mystery that surrounded the violet-eyed man. There were no records of the man before he came into the music business, no pictures, and as far as everyone knew no relatives either. It's not so much as it's all a secret, but that there were none in the first place with him being adopted into a family who could not bear children and was homeschooled. His adopted parents died in a house fire a few years later, the fire consuming all of his adoption papers as well. In his parents will it was stated that he was sole owner of their summer estate and all it's possessions, which just so happen to include a grand piano as well as a few other instruments.

And thus his career as a professional pianist began at the young age of 22 with his first ballad _Mourning Heart_, a tale of his losses. Not that the press knew anything about that. Oh no, Roderich liked his privacy very much. That's also why he chose not to reveal his face to the public when his debut album came out. It was his only requirement for signing with Gentosha Inc, that his identity be kept secret. Surprisingly not only did the company agree, but the loved the mystery angle it provided. The idea of using a smoke and screen to create his silhouette for concerts was the idea of his boss, Mikkel Densen. The man did love dramatics, but that suited Roderich just fine since he hated people, especially nosy paparazzi, disrupting his peaceful life.

Which brings to light why he's cursing his boss for hiring someone who's going to be invading his personal space as a live-in bodyguard. Someone who would be with him 24/7 and even worse, someone who knew what he looked like and could put the face to the name the whole world knew. And that thought terrified him. He was so used to being a shadowy figure, a mysterious celebrity. Only his most trusted staff would actually see him face to face, and even then they were forced to sign a nondisclosure agreement. He could count on two hands how many people knew his name and face, and now some stranger he doesn't have the first clue about will be included in that list as well? Oh how he was dreading the day.

He reached the ground floor and strode out of the lobby with his head held high. His driver, Mark, was already behind the wheel reading a magazine. The black haired man looked up when he heard the clacking of Roderich's boots on the concrete ground. When he saw his boss, Mark quickly tossed the magazine away and jumped out of the car, a inconspicuous black sedan.

"My apologies, Sir. I didn't expect you out so soon," he said bowing slightly before opening the back door for Roderich.

"That's alright, I left a bit early," the musician replied, barely hiding the annoyance in his tone. Mark noticed this as he closed the back door, but said nothing until he was behind the driver's seat once more and they were pulling away from the tall steel and glass Gentosha Inc building.

"Densen again?" Mark said, familiarity appearing once they were out of the public's eye. The pianist always said he didn't have any friends and that's somewhat true. He had coworkers, employees, and associates, however, Mark would have to be the closest to earn the title of a friend. The man had been working for Roderich for 2 going on 3 years now since the start of the musician's career, and had become a sort of confident...or well actually someone he could vent to. Mark didn't mind being a living diary, in fact he enjoyed the verbal conversations the two shared. The violet-eyed man was quite the intellectual.

Roderich snorted in response. "Of course. You wouldn't believe what he pushed on me this time."

"I can't wait to hear it," the other replied, amusement leaking from his words.

"A live-in bodyguard."

Mark had to stifle his laughter at the pout he could her in his boss's tone. "I don't see a problem with that."

"The hell you don't. You know how I feel about my privacy."

"Yes, but I also know that there's someone sending you multiple death threats in your fan mail," Mark countered.

"Oh please, it's just this one maniac who is claiming my music caused his wife to divorce him. His letters say that he found her many times masturbating to my music, and when she left she claimed he never made her feel loved the way my music did." Roderich rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Maybe if he was better in bed, he wouldn't had that problem," he muttered the last part, but Mark heard it anyway and didn't even bother to hide his laughter.

"I can fire you , you know." The musician didn't find anything funny.

"But then you'd have to hire another driver and then you'd have another stranger invading your privacy."

"...I hate that you're the voice of reason." Mark said nothing, but Roderich could see the self-satisfied smirk in the rearview mirror, and it caused his lips to raise into a smile as well albeit reluctantly.

The rest of the ride to his estate was silent, except for the radio playing softly. When they arrived at the gate, the head of his security asked for Mark's identity verification, but it was just to go through the motions. Everyone knew the amiable driver. Finally they reached the 10 car garage that housed the limos and more flashy cars that only Roderich was allowed to drive. Mark once again hopped out of the car to open the back door. Roderich exited the vehicle with regal grace and was about to retire into his home when his driver stopped him.

"Seriously," Mark said, the playful banter gone. "Until this situation is figured out, having someone who's always there to protect you is for the best." Let no one say that Roderich Edelstein wasn't well loved by his staff. Roderich allowed a small smile to grace his features at the concern in the other's voice.

"It's not like I have a choice in the matter, but I'll at least_ try_ to be somewhat nice," he promised with sincerity.

"And Hell just froze over!" Mark exclaimed with a wide smile.

Roderich snorted and shoved the other's shoulder. "Har har," he said, starting to walk away. "Goodnight, Mark."

"Goodnight, Roddy."

Upon entering the house, his butler greeted him politely and informed him that dinner would be soon. Roderich nodded, thanking him but before he could change into more comfortable clothing his butler stopped him once more and handed him a large manila envelope. The pianist raised an eyebrow at the 'Don't throw me away' written on a post-it note. And then rolled his eyes at the 'I mean it -Mikkel' right underneath. He took the folder and thanked his butler once more before climbing the winding staircase to his master bedroom. Roderich sat the envelope on his dresser and pulled out a white dress shirt and black slacks to change into, the most casual the classical musician would allow himself to be.

Finally comfortable he sat on his bed and pulled the envelope closer to him. Opening it, he was surprised to find a folder with another post-it note. This one had 'I thought you might want this' written on it. Roderich opened the folder and resisted the urge to smile, instead rolling his violet eyes once more. As much as he said he hated his boss, Mikkel Densen (the insufferable Dane)was a good man who understood the browned haired man well. Inside the folder was a profile. Specifically a profile on his new live-in bodyguard. The very first page was a glossy photo of a blonde haired man, but the thing that stood out the most was the deep green eyes staring back at him. Something in Roderich sparked in the back of his mind, a sense of...familiarity? He pushed it away with a shake of his head and flipped the photo over so he could see the next page. It was a short bio, including his specialties.

"Vash Zwingli," he mussed reading the name typed on the page, trying out the name on his lips. The musician then settled back into his soft pillows and began to read, soon getting lost in the words of the high level IPA agent who would be soon protecting him. Other pages included past assignments, not going into too much detail of course, but interesting all the same. He didn't even pause until his butler knocked on his door to inform him of dinner.

**Later that night...**

After dinner and fiddling with his violin for a hour the musician trekked back up the winding staircase to his master bedroom. He stripped down to his underwear and slipped between the soft sheets. Pillows surrounded his head giving him the feeling of laying on a cloud, but he couldn't fall asleep just yet. His mind raced with too many thoughts of the next day, when he would meet his so called live-in bodyguard.

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><p><strong>Hope you like the addition, Chick-a-dees. I thought people might want to know Roderich's take on the situation. As for those of you who are new and are confused about the smoke and screen silhouette fact that was mentioned, do not fear for it will be explained more in the next chapter. <strong>

**Review please~**


	3. Chapter 3

_Ello again, Chick-a-dees. I decided to just combine this chapter with the one I had for chapter 4 to make a super long (if not draw out) introduction. Still a special thanks to my reviewers: **theAwesomePurssia17, WwLOLwW, and pirateANDelf, **as well as everyone who favorite and followed this story. I'm happy you like the bonus chapter because there will be more never before seen chapters (Ha! I'm trying to make it sound more important than it is) Still I hope you like it. Until then, you have this chapter to enjoy~_

**Disclaimer: If I had any claim whatsoever to Hetalia...(which I don't BTW)...do you think I'd be on FF when I could have made my fantasies reality?**

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><p><strong>Vash POV<strong>

I always wake a bit early to start my day. Usually around 0600 hours, but on the day that my assignment started I woke up even earlier. Actually, I'm not sure I even slept in the first place. It was akin to a child on Christmas Day, I was just so excited. I haven't felt like that a while, and it was all because of my client: Roderich Edelstein. I used the extra time I had acquired to look over his file once more. I grabbed the envelope from my bedside table, I myself still situated in my plain twin bed. My deep green sheets only covered my lower half, my upper torso seated up with my pillow sandwiched between me and the backboard. I settled back to get myself more comfortable, the covers shifted across my bare stomach, and then proceeded to pull out the papers that contained information about my charge. My eyes scanned the pages greedily.

It was the typical request for a bodyguard, except that it also requested I'd be a live-in bodyguard at his estate. The reason for the request wasn't too unusual, but it made me stifle a laugh. There were threats made on his life from a disgruntled man who's wife left him after hearing one of the musician's ballads _Sounds of Love_. The duration of the mission was unknown. I assumed it would be until the found the culprit, and it was deemed safe for the pianist to move around freely. I was perfectly fine with staying as long as I could. I wasn't lying when I said that Roderich Edelstein was my idol. In fact he was the sole reason I got interesting in classical music.

The man was a genius when it came to the piano, but it was the violin that captured my interest. I don't know how he it did it, but he created this...atmosphere with his music. It evoked emotions in its listeners and that's what made him so famous. Well, that and the mysterious fact that no one knows what the man looks like. As strange as it sounded there was no picture on record of the musician, not even in my briefing file. It was all smoke and screen, literally. All interviews and concerts show just his silhouette from behind a floor to ceiling screen separating the pianist from his audience with smoke billowing out around him. He says its to protect his privacy and I can understand the need. I've learned from my previous clients that the lifestyles of the rich and the famous isn't all red carpets and after parties, but that they have personal lives as well that they want to keep separate from business.

I'm the same way. Business and pleasure where in two separate categories in my life. Business being the bigger of the two of course. In fact because of my job I never had the time to even attend one of the musician's concerts. However, now...now not only will I have a chance to see the man behind the screen, I'd be around him almost 24/7, I'd be by him for every concert, every autograph session, even business transactions. I'd be there...guarding him. And it was that thought that mellowed me somewhat. This was a job assignment, not a vacation to spend frolicking about with my idol. I had to be professional.

A disappointed sigh left my lips and I closed the file having read through it twice. I raked my fingers through my blonde hair and looked over at my bedside digital clock. 0630, about the time I usually wake up to train in my makeshift dojo downstairs. I lifted myself out of the bed and pulled on black sweat pants, foregoing a shirt entirely. It hindered movement anyway. My bare feet made soft patting sounds against the hardwood floors of my small freestanding townhouse. Actually it wasn't mine per say. IPA had homes available for single agents that were close to headquarters. There was even day care available to those rare single parent agents. Most agents I knew had preferred to find their own apartment or house. Then again most agents I knew were also married or involved with someone.

I was neither and had no need to go through the hassle of house hunting, so I opted for the townhome. It was equipped with everything that was essential to survival. Kitchen, bathroom with a shower, adequate storage space, a living room, and an extra room that could have been an entertainment room should I have guests over, but instead I turned it into my own personal martial arts training room. A better choice in my opinion, and so much more useful.

The opening to my dojo was not barred by a door, instead a Japanese noren curtain with Hokusai waves printed on it hung from the archway. I pulled the silky material out of the way to let myself through and was immediately basked in the sense of calmness. Dojos are a tranquil place, meant for reflection, learning from our mistakes and moving forward. While not an official dojo, I decorated it to look like the one from my childhood. I bowed before stepping on the mat, padded over to where a picture of my old master hung and bowed again. Then I stretched before starting any exercises. I was an expert in guns, yes, but I enjoyed hand-to-hand combat as well. Currently, I was working my way up to a blue belt in Krav Maga. I had already mastered Aikido in my teens, wanting to protect myself but not at the expense of another person's pain. Once my post-sleep induced aches were stretched out, then I began to warm up.

My warm up usually consisted of a light jog around the perimeter of the room, first forwards then backwards and last sideways. Then came the joints. From my toes to my fingertips I rolled my joints, first inward and then outward. The tuck and rolls were in the same order as the jog except I rolled from one corner of the mat to the other. Once I felt my body was completely relaxed then did the more challenging drills come. It was only moments later that I felt the power rising in me and I itched to practice on the 6 foot heavy bag that hung from the ceiling off in one corner of the room. I didn't waste another moment after the last drill and went over to the punching bag with light footsteps, feeling very much like a predator hunting it's prey. Granted it was a prey that couldn't move, but that didn't stop me from attacking it with the ferocity as if it could fight back. I ducked and weaved away from imaginary jabs aimed towards me, and returned then in full force.

It was only when I took a water break that I bothered to glance at the watch on my wrist: 0800 it read. Perfect. Just enough time to shower, eat breakfast and take a taxi to the airport. It was only an hour and a half flight, but it was better than the drive that would have taken 3 times as long just to get to my client's estate. I was informed that there would be a driver waiting at the airport to pick me up, so I didn't have to worry about paying for another taxi, not knowing how far away the musician's estate was from the airport. My bags were already packed from the previous night but I double checked to make sure I had everything just in case before shrugging on a light coat before stepping outside the house. One carry on and one duffle bag to be checked in were put into the trunk of the cab that was waiting outside for me and I myself climbed into the back seat.

**15 minutes later...**

I arrived at the airport an hour before my flight started to board. It was enough time to check in my luggage, go through security, and grab a snack. The walk over to my terminal was a good 10 minutes and that left the wait for only 10 more minutes until they called for priority access boarding. I was flying business class, all paid for by IPA, and the seats were pleasantly plush. Once everyone had boarded, I watched out of my window as the scenery grow smaller and smaller the higher we climbed in altitude. The plane ride itself was uneventful, which I guess is a good thing, and I breathed a sigh of relief once I exited the plane and could stretch my limbs.

My first stop was baggage claim to get my duffle bag, and I watched the conveyor belt for the familiar black bag whilst tapping my foot impatiently. As soon as I spotted it, I grabbed it and quickly went to put distance between myself and the loud civilians that surrounded me. I hated crowded places with a passion. It was only a short walk to the Arrivals pick-up location where the taxis and buses usual were. I was told someone would be waiting for me, Roderich Edelstein's driver. Mark Shyers was the name mentioned in the file. My eyes traveled over the various signs being held up, and there among the 'Welcome Home's was my name on a large rectangular white poster board. The black haired man holding it was scanning the terminal, looking for me I presumed. I walked over to him and his eyes locked onto mine.

"Vash Zwingli?" He questioned.

"That's me."

"Nice to meet you," he said with a friendly smile holding out his hand for me to shake. "I'm Mark, Mr. Edelstein's driver. I'm here to take you to the estate." I shook the offered hand and when he motioned to take my bag I kindly told him I was fine to carry it myself. He led me over to a white short limo and opened the trunk for me. I set my bags inside and shut it myself before he opened the back seat for me as well. It was strange having someone else do things for me and hopefully it wouldn't be a continued effort.

The drive wasn't too long, and the driver was talkative. He informed me about his boss's likes and dislikes, what annoys him and makes him happy. All things I knew from the file, but I let him talk. It was better than the alternative: the boring silence. When we reached the estate, Mark jumped out of the limo to open my door first and I thanked him awkwardly, not used to such treatment. He also got my bags from the trunk, but I put my foot down when he wanted to carry them in as well. I took a few minutes to absorb the enormous place that would be my home for the duration of my job.

It was made of grey stone and two stories high. The surrounding area was a lush green and colorful shrubs dotted the landscape. The actual building was divided into various sections, some rectangular and some cylindrical. It was impressive and I was looking forward to taking in the details, but that would come later. For now I had a client to meet. I was about to make my way up the stone steps when Mark's voice stopped me.

"Just a head's up," he told me, one foot inside the vehicle while he balanced on the other and his elbow resting on the open door. "Ro-Mr. Edelstein...may seem a bit rude at first, but he's really a good guy. "

I nodded my thanks, not knowing what else to say about that little tidbit of information.

"Please keep him safe," were his parting words and if I couldn't tell from the way he talked earlier, now I was sure that Mark cared for his boss. The concern gave me a better look at the type of person Roderich Edelstein was than my files ever could, and it also gave me hope that we could be friendly as well. Besides, I would hate for my idol to turn out to be an asshole like so many other celebrities I had come across.

"I will," I told him and I would. It was my job after all.

I hitched my duffle bag higher onto my back and made my way up the stairs in front of the estate. After what seemed like a thousand steps, but in actuality was only about 10, I reached the top and stood in front of two intimidating wooden doors. There were knockers that were shaped like treble clefs and that made me smirk in amusement. I lifted my hand to grab onto the nockers, but then my eyes catch sight of the doorbell that set off to the right of the wood panel. Thinking practically I weighed my options of which would be heard clearer throughout the large estate. On one hand, I really wanted to do the old fashioned thing and bang the knockers, but on the other hand...

I rang the doorbell.

**Roderich POV**

I'm not much of a morning person, but when the day finally came for my new bodyguard to start his job, I woke up before the maids in my estate. I stared at the digital clock mounted on the wall opposite of my bed showing my time as well as those of big cities around the world. It was 4:50AM and light had barely broken through the curtains that covered my window. I took in a deep breath feeling my weight shift among the many pillows that were littered around me. What? I liked the plushness. It also served as a slight distraction in my rising nervousness. I was going to have a live-in bodyguard, basically a total stranger, see me and put a face to the name that the world knows. Though, it helped a bit that I knew a little bit about him from what was in his file.

Vash Zwingli was only a year older than my 24 years. He joined the Intercontinental Protection Agency straight after graduating high school. Valedictorian, I noticed with a roll of my eyes. Sounds like a total nerd. He scored above average in all marks of the entrance exam, but it was weapons qualifications that really stood him out above the rest of his peers. Expert shooter: 40 out of 40 hits. Dead center. With targets ranging as far back as 300 meters. Okay, maybe not so much of a nerd then. He's taken a lot of jobs in his 7 years of service (2 of those years were spent training at the IPA Training Academy) one of which included the daughter of the British Prime Minister.

I still had a few hours before my new employee's flight would land and my driver Mark would go pick him up, so I decided to kill some time by practicing on the clarinet I kept stored in my room. It wasn't my favorite instrument to play, but it helped with the nerves. Not much brain cells were used up by playing it and it was perfect for clearing my thoughts. I started to play My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean at 1/4 beat. My fingers shifting periodically and my breath coming out long and drawn out. Frère Jacques came next still keeping that nice an slow beat. And then I ended with Silent Night. They were the very first songs that I learned on the clarinet and they never failed put me into a trance.

By the time I had broken from the music induced haze it was nearing 6AM. Still really early, so I decided to take a shower...no a bath was more suitable. My master bedroom had a bathroom with one of those built-in-the-floor tubs. I loved it. I wasn't normally an indulgent person, but I liked to pamper myself on occasion...okay many occasions. Stress relief was one such occasion and my muscles were so tense only piping hot water and a continuous stream from built in spray jets could melt away.

Mind made up, I strode over into my bathroom, bare feet making slapping sounds against the granite flooring. I first turned on the water before placing a CD into the nearby radio. With the press of a button _Moonlight_ by Yiruma, a Japanese pianist, resounded though the room and I felt my had grow heavy with the rhythm, a stronger music induced haze fogged my brain and I relished in the weightless feeling.

A moment later I stripped myself of the white dress shirt and black slacks from the previous night before slipping into the heavenly heat contained in the bathtub. I positioned myself so that the jet spray fell directly along my neck and spine, and then I let my head rest on the edge of the tub. I inhaled deeply holding it a few seconds before letting it go, feeling my muscles go pliant.

When _Moonlight_ transitioned over to _Fairy Tale_ I started to wash. Grabbing the Zephyr soap, I brought it to my skin. Rubbing in slow mechanical circles, I lathered up my body starting from my neck and shoulders and working my way down my extremities. The scents of ginger root and jasmine paired with coconut milk and warm amber musk quickly filled my nostrils. Afterwards, I ducked my limbs under the water to rinse the soap off then grabbed the Dead Sea Mud Salt soap, a grainy bar that helped to exfoliate my skin. The scraps against my flesh were welcome, and I felt utterly clean after scrubbing my whole body. Lastly was the Wildwood soap bar with its aroma of doug fir and wild cherry bark, it would leave me smelling like the forest. I must have stayed soaking in the tub for longer than I planned because soon there was a knock at my bathroom door.

"Mr. Edelstein," I heard the soft voice of one of my maid calling out, Jillian by the sound of it.

Wait, no Julian was his actual name. I would be an understatement to say that I was shocked when I had found out that the pigtailed silver-haired maid with large amethyst eyes to rival my own was actually male. When we had first met she...uh...he was out on the street trying to sell her..his original art. It hit something inside of me I wouldn't acknowledge as sentiment, but I walked over an before my brain knew what my mouth was doing, I offered her...him a job at my estate. He refused at first, stubborn and trying to prove his independence. It was a week later after a particularly violent downpour that we crossed paths again. I repeated my offer and he accepted.

In regard to his talents, he told me he could 'make things pretty.' Embellishment basically, and I gave her..him a job as a maid. Someone to oversee that the house was in pristine condition. For 3 weeks I was blissfully unaware that the hard working teenage girl was in fact not a girl until I stumbled onto him changing from a spill on his blouse. If the absence of a chest wasn't enough of a hint, then the slight bulge in the lace panties (that were _not_ part of the uniform) sure did the trick.

I was confused more than shocked at the discovery because I didn't understand why didn't he tell me. I could have gotten him a different uniform if I had known. I told him such, but he told me that wearing a dress helped him express himself. Well, I didn't really see any reason to force him to change since she...he had his own quarters. Besides the other maids had taking a liking to him, apparently I was the only one blind to his gender. Still I had trouble thinking about him as anyone but Jillian.

"Mr. Edelstein?" he called again, this time with a hint of concern and I realized that I had yet to acknowledge him.

"Hmmm?" I hummed, my mind still halfway in my memories.

"Breakfast is ready," he told me, and as if to collaborate with his words my stomach growled at the same time.

"I'll be down in a few moments, thank you" I replied, and though I couldn't see it I knew he was bowing his head, two braided pigtails falling over his shoulders.

I listened as his soft footfalls retreated from the bathroom door and soon after a muted 'clink' could be heard from the closing of the master bedroom door. I rose from the quickly cooling waters, sighing at the way the water slid down my body like silk before grabbing a large navy blue towel from the rack close to the bathtub. I wrapped it around my person and stepped out of the tub and onto the white rug place in front of it. I dried myself off first before hanging the towel back in its place and walking out of the bathroom, naked as the day I was born. I had nothing to hide or be ashamed of, I took pride in my body.

It was a short walk to my wardrobe, and I flung the doors open. The first thing I grabbed was underwear and then I stood with my hands on my hips, pondering what I would wear for the day. Something...powerful perhaps? To show my new guard just who's in charge? Yes, I liked that idea very much. In the end I chose to wear a white blazer with a red button up shirt underneath and crisp black slacks. White leather shoes adored my feet and they had a quarter inch heel that made my steps echo loudly against the floor. I looked at myself in my floor length mirror, satisfied with the aura of power I eluded.

Going down the winding staircase slowly never failed to make him feel like a nobleman, so of course I did it every chance I got. Sometimes I almost half expected there to be a crowd of people waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs, looking at me with awe. My ego was a funny thing.

I entered the kitchen where the scent of freshly baked Semmeln and sausages. There was already an empty plate set on the table with many plates and bowls brimming with various foods and fruits for me to choose from. My cook was amazing and I paid him well for it. I paid all my staff well in actuality. I know I can be a difficult person to deal with sometimes.

Once my plate was filled, the untouched food was taken to the dinning hall for my staff to enjoy. There's were greetings exchanged as the maids passed me on their way to eat. Or well, they said 'Good morning' and I nodded to acknowledge I heard. Although when I saw Julian trying to hurry pass me with his head ducked, my voice stopped him.

"Julian, what did you do to your uniform?" I asked with one eyebrow raised. The navy blue and white traditional dress was now shortened with added ruffles, and violet lined the color and cuffs.

"I...uh...modified it? Doesn't it look great?!" He gushed, giving me a wide smile sweet that further strengthened the Julian vs Jillian battle that raised in my head from time to time. In truth it didn't look bad at all, but that wasn't the point.

"Everyone has to be uniform," I told him sternly, sounding way too much like a parent for my liking.

There was a pause.

"Soooo, if we're all wearing the same thing, it's okay?"

"Yes..wait, no. Where are you going, Jillian?" My voice rose slightly and I switched his name unconsciously.

"Gotta eat if I need the energy to make all those new uniforms for you," he said already backing away from me.

"I never said-"

"Thanks, Mr. Edelstein!" he called over his shoulder while he sped away, his silver braids leaving a trail behind him. That cheeky little manipulator. However, I wasn't angry. If anything I was happy to see him so passionate. I turned back to my food with a small fond smile. Several silent minutes later, the last piece of jam covered toast was halfway to my mouth when it happened.

I heard the doorbell ring.

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><p><strong>Now that you all are caught up with both POVs separately, we can look at them both together next. Not much dialogue in this chapter, but that's because their initial meeting will happen in the next chapter, and then their lips will flap...thaaaaaat sounded less gross in my head. Anyhoo, because I'm such a kind and loving author (okay, it's still up for debate) I'll give you a little gift:<strong>

**Next chapter preview:**

_There was an awkward silence stretching between us as we both took in one another, employer and employee, and I rushed to fill it. I racked brain my for something, anything, to say to the blonde man. _

_"You're kinda short," I blurted out and immediately wanted to smack myself._

**Reviews are greatly treasured and appreciated**

**P.S- kudos to whoever can guess what nation Julian is **


	4. Chapter 4

_Yes, Chick-a-dees, Julian/Jillian is Kugel Mugel the micronation. The artsy nation had me squealing when I first read about him. Anyhoo, a special thanks to my reviewers **Maya Gordelia, HetaJuu, and Guest **as well as those who favorited and reviewed. _

_Special Announcement for any of my old readers (and well actually my new ones as well) I'm bringing back Hetalia Host Club towards the end of this month. Until then you can read about these two fumbling around each other. E__njoy~_

**Disclaimer: There's only 1 thing, 2 do, 3 words, 4 you: This isn't mine. All characters are the intellectual property of Hidekaz Himaruya**

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><p><strong>Vash POV<strong>

I didn't have to wait long for the door open. It swung in a wide arch, revealing a tall elderly man with greying hair. However, his posture was erect under his traditional black 3 piece suit while white gloved hands simultaneously held open the door and gestured me inside. I hitched my duffle bag higher on my shoulders, more out of nerves than actual necessity, and took a step forward. I was given a moment to view the lavish entryway before a deep slightly accented voice reached my ears.

"Good afternoon, my name is Haas and I am the head butler of the estate. My Master will be with you momentarily. I was asked to lead you to the lounging area where you can wait for him there. Would you like your bags to be taken to your room now, Sir?" he said in a prim and proper tone fit for his position.

I hesitated but in the end relinquished hold of my possessions to a maid who had been summoned for the task. It was strange to suddenly not have the familiar weight, and though I knew danger would not befall me in this household, I still felt a bit of apprehension when my weapons were out of my sight. I took comfort in the Swiss Army knife strapped to my ankle though. Small blessings and such.

"Thank you," I said to both Haas and the black haired maid. In return they both bowed their heads slightly.

"Now if you will follow me, Sir," the head butler said. I nodded to acknowledge his words and he took that as permission to lead me deeper in the estate, walking forward with brisk steps and I easily matched his stride. Moving with a purpose, I though happily. Something I admired and respected.

I took care to keep my expression neutral, but I couldn't help the widening of my eyes when I spotted the décor along the way. The wallpaper was a deep navy blue with accents of gold flowing along the expanse of the wall like vines. Every few feet there were potted plants that reached my waist, filled with foreign white furry snowflake-like flowers with smaller yellow flowers in the center. There was art too. Paintings, sculptures, and once we even passed a portrait. It showcased a family featuring an older looking couple and a little boy, but it was too far away for me to see the details.

A moment later we stopped at a set of intricately crafted wooden doors. With the same flourish he did with the front door, Haas opened the doors widely and then beckoned me inside.

"Mr. Edelstein will be with you shortly," he said with a elegant bow before backing away and closing the doors, leaving me alone to take in my surroundings.

My instincts took over and I first searched for exits, any windows or air vents that could be of use. There were no windows in the room, but an air vent was situated on the far east side wall, above an armchair and about 5 meters from the ground; big enough for a child or maybe a small woman. I made a mental note of that and continued my search. There was only one other door present in the room, but a quick check revealed it to house what appeared to be replacement throw pillows. Content with my analysis, I turned my attention towards the rest of the room.

The walls were cream and navy blue, the second color appeared to be a reoccurring theme from what I saw so far. Three cream colored arm chairs with matching ottomans lay in a semi circle. Laying a few feet in front of them was a fireplace with two stone lions standing guard on both sides. It was clean and looked untouched, but the faint scrapes I could see on the stone told me it was used frequently. A baby grand piano sat on the west side of the room, and there looked to be a sheet of music already on the stand. I walked over, curious as to what piece it would be, when something caught my eye from under the piano's stool. The half obscured brightly colored object didn't quite fit with the rest of the room and I leaned over to pick it up.

Imagine my surprise to find the object to be none other than a rubix cube, something I hadn't touched in a good 5 years. I turned the toy around in my hand, noticing with amusement the failure of the previous attempt to complete the puzzle. I myself had trouble with the puzzle in the past, but had long since learned the secret of solving it quickly, my personal best was just under 3 minutes. Decided I had nothing better to do as I waited for my new client, I reset the cube and started it anew.

It was simple really, the device worked around a swivel so the color in the middle never changed. All that's left to do is adjust accordingly, thinking a few steps ahead to decided which way to turn so the colors would align. It was under that mentality that within seconds I already had one side completed and I was just finishing the second when I heard the door open. I tensed, pausing slightly at the sound before continuing twisting and turning, my mind however, was still actively on the other person in the room. The person didn't say anything and I didn't hear movement so not a maid or someone who would be cleaning. I could only assume they were observing me.

I had to back track when a stray yellow was left in a field of red, and after another moment 4 sides were completed. My companion was still silent and didn't make any move to come closer to me. Still observing then, I thought and I was confident that the mysterious person was my new client, the elusive Roderich Edelstein. And for reasons unbeknownst to me, that made sweat dot along my brows. The thought of being in the same room as my idol. All too soon I had completed all 6 sides and I turned the colorful cube in my hand for a moment, observing the finished product. It was only when I finally admitted to myself I was stalling that I placed the puzzle on the piano top and turned around.

He wasn't what I was expecting.

Although, I wasn't really sure what I was expecting, or if I even had expectations at all really, but the man in front of me was a surprise either way. In a split second I took in the brown hair that laid in layers a top his head with one random curl defying gravity, the violet eyes that were magnified by glasses, and also the mole that set to the left side of his mouth. It only took another second to take in his wardrobe as well. A white blazer with a red button up shirt underneath and crisp black slacks with white leather shoes covering his feet. As he strode over to me he eluded power, grace, and...familiarity? My eyebrows furrowed slightly at the thought, but then I dismissed it when the taller man stopped about two feet away.

Then there was a silence between us that was filled with just a small amount of tension, neither of us unsure how to proceed. I inwardly cursed myself for my apprehension. I haven't even started the job and already my judgment was being clouded by opinions towards the celebrity. After schooling my face into a blank expression, I straightened my back and held out a hand.

"Hello," I took the initiative. "I'm Vash Zwingli from IPA." That seemed to snap him out of his stupor and he gave me a slightly sheepish smile. He stepped forward, his long legs easily shortening the distance between us and held out a hand as well to meet my own.

"Roderich Edelstein," he said in a voice as deep and melodious as the music he produced. "Pleasure to meet you." He captured my hand in a firm grip and shook. His hands were soft with long slender fingers perfect for a piano.

It was actually him, I thought as our hands disconnected. My idol, Roderich Edelstein, world famous classical musician. It was him in the flesh in front of me without the use of smoke and screens. The thought was a exciting one, and I just hoped that the smile that managed to slip through my mask of indifference was at least professional and not in the likeness of a crazed fan. I took comfort in the fact that he did not look horrified and counted that as a no.

It gave me hope that the employment could work out well.

**Roderich POV**

When the head butler of my estate, Haas, told me the newest addition to my staff had arrived, I gave myself a few moments to calm myself before heading down to the lounging area I used to entertain guests. Once I reached the doors to the entrance, I paused for a second with my hand resting lightly on the door handle before chiding myself for being so nervous. If anything my new bodyguard should be nervous of me. I straightened my back, lifted my chin and then opened the door.

The sight wasn't something I was expecting.

Not that I had specific expectations, but finding my soon-to-be employee fiddling with a rubix cube wasn't one of them. So that's where that blasted contraption went. I bought it on a whim so time ago, something to stimulate my mind, but in the end it only served to frustrate me immensely and it found itself flown from my hands in anger. I had barely spared it a second thought since then. I diverted my eyes from the two completed sides the man had finished in order to take in his appearance. Even though I read his file and stared at his picture for a while last night, but it didn't prepare me for the real thing.

His back was the only part visible to me from where he was standing, but I could tell he wasn't bulky, nor was he all that tall. In fact he looked to be at least one head shorter than myself. He was clad in green jacket that was slightly wrinkled and brown cargo pants tucked into black combat boots. I saw with an appraising eye that he stood with good posture, his back was erect and not hunched over the puzzle in his hands. Also, I realized that though it seemed like he was casually standing there, my detailed eyes could catch the slight tension in his arms and shoulders.

He knew I was there.

I was brought out of my musings by a clack. My eyes traveled to the origin of the noise and saw the rubix cube on top of the baby grand piano I had placed in there just because I could. I blinked a few times in disbelief, not quite comprehending what I saw. All 6 sides of the puzzle were completed, but it couldn't have been more than 2 minutes of me observing the other man. Did he really just...

I lifted my eyes from the toy and stared right into brilliant green. Now that I could see the front of him I noticed the photograph included in his files had captured the man's personality perfectly. Short blonde hair framed a stern face, the green jacket was open to reveal a tight black tee that was tucked into his cargo pants held up by a sandy brown belt. There was an aura about him that despite his small stature, his presence commanded the room. All in all he looked like some type of rough mercenary, which I guess isn't too far of a stretch from his actual job at the Intercontinental Protection Agency.

In wake of the steadily creeping silence, I walked over to him and pondered about a way to break it. Introducing myself was an expected route, and honestly I should have done that as soon as the other man turned around, but no I was still a bundle of nerves. Even more so when I noticed his gaze scurry around every aspect of persona from head to toe. I was tempted to say 'Take a picture, it'll last longer', but was also afraid that he might. Which was silly of course because Mikkel included a copy of the agent's signed nondisclosure agreement in the file he sent me, but irrational fears are...well, irrational like that. Just when I was about to open my mouth when the blonde beat me to it.

"Hello. I'm Vash Zwingli from IPA." His voice was deep, but not as rough as I expected, there was also a hint of an accent. He held out his hand and I stepped forward to receive it.

"Roderich Edelstein. Pleasure to meet you." See? I could be courteous. His hand was calloused and the rough texture felt foreign on my mosterized hands, but it was a strangely nice feeling. When we shook hands, I saw a hint of a smile on his face, but then it was gone just as quickly and all too soon the contact was broken.

We reached a stand still after that. There was an awkward silence stretching between us as we both took in one another, employer and employee, and I rushed to fill it. I racked brain my for something, anything, to say to the blonde man.

"You're kinda short," I blurted out and immediately wanted to smack myself. There goes my courtesy.

His lips quirked in what could have been a smile...or anger, and just like the barely there smile from before it was gone in a second, his expression once again neutral. What was with this guy?

"I get that a lot, Mr. Edelstein, but rest assured it does nothing to hinder my ability to protect you." And goodness if he didn't sound so incredibly serious. Now I appreciated professionalism, but there was a fine line between being professional and being a no nonsense stick-in-the-mud. I encouraged rapport between my employees and myself, and close bonds since they were among the handful of people in the world who knew of my identity. It was a almost like a family and this man..this stranger, did not fit into that image.

"Good to know," I said, glad I didn't insult the man who would be protecting me for an unpredicted time. Never bite the hand that feeds you and all that jazz. "I'm going to led you to your room where you can get settled and then someone will escort you down for lunch and we can go over your contract in detail." When I saw his nod I continued to speak. "I'm sorry for the short notice of my boss's request, but I thank you for accepting. You're supposed to start tomorrow, but a day of rest wouldn't hurt. A official tour can occur at that time if you would like that."

"Thank you, Mr. Edelstein," Vash said, and I had to suppress an eye roll at his nearly robotic tone. Mark would be so proud of my restraint.

"Your welcome. It only makes sense for you to be familiar with the ins and outs of my estate. I'm sure you'll also want to meet with the rest of my employees as well as my security team..." I trailed off and he nodded once more in answer. "I thought as much. Please follow me to your room. I had it modified a bit to fit your preferences. I hope you find it to your liking," I concluded with a smile. Look at me being courteous again, maybe Hell is starting to freeze over.

When I received nothing more than another nod coupled with a blank expression for my polite efforts I let out a silent sigh that was still covered by the smile. Turning around it dropped as I strode towards the wooden doors, leading my new bodyguard out of the lounging area.

I didn't have much hope that this employment was going to work.

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><p><strong>I like writing about this pair, especially when it comes to misunderstandings and confusion. And trust me, Chick-a-dee, there will be a lot of that in this fanfic. Up next will be in 3rd person and it's also where a few answers about each other's past is revealed. For all my old readers, the basic plot is still the same, but the road is different. <strong>

**Next chapter preview:**

_"How old is she?" Vash asked as the maid ran off giggling, she couldn't have been more than 16._

_"He's 15," Roderich replied. The blonde man nodded, his assumptions correct. Then his employer's words reached his brain. Wait..._

_"He?"_

**Just one review can help save a starving plot bunny**


	5. Chapter 5

_Ello again, Chick-a-dees. I'm deciding to be productive with my free time while I still have it, so here's another chapter! Still a special thanks to my reviewers: _**aricyanide and KittiBell**_ as well as everyone who favorite and followed this story. It makes me happy that someone out there is enjoying what I write. And I love feedback! Good, bad, it doesn't matter, as long as I can use it to make me a better writer._

_Okay, I'll stop babbling now. Enjoy~_

**Disclaimer: ****Esto no es mío, ****Dies ist nicht mein, 这不是我的. No matter which language I say it in, it's clear that this is**** not mine**

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><p>"Here's your room," Roderich said unceremoniously. He held the door open while Vash stepped inside, slowly taking in the serenely decorated room.<p>

When his employer had said that he had the room decorated to suit the IPA agent's interests, the blonde had his doubts, but they were washed away as soon as his eyes landed on the interior of the room. The walls were a deep forest green. Actually the whole room had a nature like quality. Plants were hanging from the ceiling in black pots, the same unique white and yellow flowers that lined the main hall. The floor was covered with a dark brown Sorona carpet, and Vash could feel the soft texture even through his boots.

The room was pretty big in itself and was sectioned off into two parts. One part was the bedroom that featured a king-sized bed with cream and brown sheets. The bed was low like a tatami mat, just the way the agent liked it, and the frame was made of oak wood. A flat screen television was mounted on the wall opposite of the bed, its remote was placed on the black nightstand beside the bed. Next to the door they entered was a wardrobe big enough to cover half the wall. Vash could see with slight relief that his two bags were placed right in front of the furniture. Next to the flat screen was an entrance with two wooden steps that led down to the second part of the room.

The flooring of the other section was hardwood, the same dark oak that the frame of the bed was made of. The colors of the walls were still the same, but this time faint outlines of trees could be seen in the right light. There were only a few items in the room, tall potted plants on the ground this time, a bookshelf and desk with a chair being among them. There was even a table with a small stone tranquility fountain on it, but the thing that drew the agent's attention most was the black and cream rice paper screen that sat off to the side of the room. He walked forward and gently slid the delicate door open.

"Wow," the exclamation left the bodyguard's lips involuntarily.

In front of his eyes was an in-floor bathtub surrounded by wood and a thick borderline of decorative cobblestone. Instead of there being a spout for the water to come from on the ground, on the ceiling was a giant shower head that would release the water in a water fall like fashion over his head. A cream shag rug was placed in front of the tub, a sink sat to the right towards the back and half hidden behind it Vash could see a toilet. Cream towels were draped across wooden pegs that dotted the enclosed walls, one big one and two small ones.

"Do you like it?" The musician asked unnecessarily. The blonde's mouth closed with an almost audible snap and he just nodded.

His eyes were so focused on the scene in front on him that he didn't notice the pleased smirk on the face of his employer beside him. Roderich, on the other hand, was aware of every little expression on his newest employee's face before it closed off. The widening of jade eyes, the slight part of his lips, and the breath that escaped his mouth in almost a sigh. Oh yes, the musician cataloged every bit of it for future reference. It seemed the bodyguard was capable of showing his expressions after all.

"Thank you," Vash said with a hint of a sheepish smile on his face. It was gone a not even a second later. "Mr. Edelstein," he added, mentally berating himself for the slip up, but his face betrayed none of his thoughts.

Roderich fought the urge to let out a long suffering sigh. It figured lavishing the other with luxury wouldn't be enough to break the shell around the bodyguard. Why was the brunet even bothering to try? Oh right, that damn promise he made Mark.

"It's no problem at all, Mr. Zwingli." Two could play at that game, Roderich thought, inwardly smirking. "This was already a forest themed room and I just added a few things to fit it to your tastes," the musician replied.

"Still..." Vash started but the other cut him off.

"I'll leave you to your devices, Mr. Zwingli. You're free until around noon, and then I'll have someone show you to the room where we will have lunch and go over the specifics of our contract. So there won't be any confusion," Roderich added with a sickly sweet smile.

"That sound good, Mr. Edelstein. Thank you," the blonde said once more, and again his employer waved it away.

"It's fine, enjoy your room." And with that he was gone, the clacking of his shoes stopping momentarily while treading across the Sonora carpet and then it could still be heard through the shut door of Vash's room, albeit muffled.

When Roderich left, the IPA agent conducted a more thorough investiagaton of his room. It was on the second floor, not too high, not too low. There was one wide window, with thick curtains that would be sure not to let any sunlight in so Vash wished it, and it locked from the inside. After a rapid succession of knocks, Vash concluded it to be made of plexiglass. There were two vents, one in each section of the room. Only about 10 feet above the ground, same size as the one's in the lounging area.

Vash went over to the wardrobe and yanked open the wooden doors. A quick search revealed 4 drawers with a 5th hidden compartment. He could use that. The bodyguard grabbed the duffle bag that held his weapons and began taking out all of his weapons. He had a total of 5 guns, 2 knifes, and (in case things got really bad) a smoke grenade and a stun grenade. His guns consisted of one sniper rifle, two Glock 9MMs, one Beretta and one revolver. The revolver was a Colt Python, his very first gun, and one that had gotten him out of some hairy situations as well. That treasure he placed underneath his pillow, while the others were hidden in various other places around the room, hidden but still accessible.

Satisfied with everything, the blonde agent plopped on his bed with a disbelieving sigh. To think he was actually a temporary ward in the home of his idol. Speaking of which, he didn't know what to think of the man yet. Roderich Edelstein was...unexpected. His countenance was a bit standoffish but not particularly rude, definitely wary. It was most likely nerves, Vash concluded. The brunet wasn't used to people knowing exactly who he was, and judging by the nondisclosure agreement IPA had him sign, he was sure that the musician absolutely abhorred the idea of someone knowing his identity. So in the end Vash didn't let Roderich's slight attitude get to him. They had only known each other for a few short minutes after all, and not only that but soon they would be in the same room eating lunch and conversing.

Oh yes, Vash thought with a wide smile, he would be with his idol in just a few short hours. With nothing else to do until then, he decided that his favorite hobby of meditation would suffice to not only pass the time but also calm his nerves. The bodyguard lowered himself to the plush flooring, crossed his legs, and took a few deeps breaths to try and clear his mind. Keyword: try.

**oOoOo**

Immediately after closing the door to his employee's new room, Roderich let out a sigh. He didn't know what it was about the blonde that within only a few minutes of knowing him made the musician edgy. Vash Zwingli was...unexpected. Not just his appearance, but also his mannerisms were also strange and unfamiliar. It had been a while since the brunet had a new employee to treat him with such a wide berth between them. Julian was his most recent employee excluding the IPA agent, but his young age made it easy for the maid to relax around the celebrity and soon it was clear to everyone that the employer/employee relationship between them was more like a parent/child though none would dare say it out loud.

With nothing else to do until noon, Roderich decided to go through his fanmail. All mail was assigned to a P.O box in another city that was picked up by Mark every week when he wasn't busy driving the musician around. It was a fun pastime for him, knowing just what his fans thought of him and his music. Sure some weren't so positive, but none were quite so threating until a few weeks ago when the first of the death threats starting coming in.

Roderich didn't think much of it, but his boss immediately went to find a personal bodyguard for Gentosha Inc's most famous employee. Mikkel went through several establishments before finding the Intercontinental Protection Agency. He sent in a request for the best and they sent him a file for Vash. Mikkel thought that of anyone could keep the wayward musician in line then Vash Zwingli could, not that Roderich knew of his boss's reasoning of course.

"Maria," Roderich called to a passing maid.

"Yes, Sir?" the petite black haired maid said politely, turning around to face her employer.

"Can you bring the fanmail box to the library, please?"

She nodded and went to turn around to do her boss's bidding, but he stopped her.

"What happened to your uniform?" the brunet asked, looking at the added ruffles and purple lining, he had his suspicions but...

"Jillian said you gave him permission to alter everyone's uniform," Maria answered, not at all conflicted by the use of the other's female name but still referring to him as a him.

Roderich gave a bone wary sigh that had the maid pressing her lips together to keep a laugh in. "Of course he did."

"Is that all, Sir?"

"Yes, thank you."

While the Maria went off to get the fanmail, Roderich went to the kitchen first to get something to drink and then he also made his way to the library. The aforementioned box was already placed on the coffee table next to the lone navy blue suede love seat in the room. He sat down and went through the box one letter at a time. Most were were the normal 'Will you marry me's he was used to and the occasional 'Your music sucks's but that didn't deter the musician. There were even a few drawings of what they thought he might look like, none of them even close, but it was amusing all the same. By far his favorite letters were the one's from children, those apprising to be just like him. One in particular had him smiling widely.

_Dear Mr. Edelstein_

_My name's Austin and I'm 9 years old. _

_I really really like hearing your music, especially the few ones on the violin._

_I told my mom that I wanted a violin for my birthday this year, and she says that if I get good grades she'll even pay for lessons!_

_So I'm studying hard now, well, I was studying hard before, but now it's like super harder studying._

_And then I'll get the lessons and become awesome at playing the violin._

_Someday I hope we can play together on a big stage!_

_Thank you for taking time to read this_

_Austin _

_P.S Do girls like violin players?_

Roderich received a few more that lifted his spirits before he got one that lowered them again. One red envelope was addressed to Mr. Home wrecker and he frowned, not even bothering to open it and just set it aside to be archived. Per his boss's request, he kept all of the death threats from the disgruntled husband and they would be used as evidence if it ever came to a trail with the man. The musician thought it was all a hassle, but placated Mikkel for the sake of his own sanity.

By the time the celebrity got to the bottom of the box a few hours had gone past. His drink was long gone and his stomach was growling slightly. He looked at his watch and was pleased to see that it was a quarter til noon. Streching his muscles that had gone tense from his stationary position, he contemplated going upstairs to get the bodyguard himself or just following his previous plans and just sending a maid. The choice was made for him when Julian stopped by the huge library doors and asked if he could bring the new employee down. Roderich was surprised by the request, but granted it nonetheless telling Julian to bring the man to the sun room.

Slightly confused, the brunet walked out of the library, leaving the letters to be packed away. He made his way to the aforementioned sun room of the estate where he had chosen to have lunch with the blonde. The sun room was close in color scheme to Vash's room, greens and browns scattered around the medium-sized room. The furniture in the room consisted of a bookshelf, a brown 3 seat sofa, a low coffee table in front of it and a larger table with 4 chairs off to the other side by the floor-to-ceiling windows. Roderich spent a lot of his time here just thinking or relaxing. The sun was in perfect position to heat up the room, but also for it's rays to not be glaring them in the eyes.

Roderich took seat at the table and waited for his employee to arrive. He didn't have to wait long, in a few minutes Julian's loud voice was filling the room.

"Got him," he shouted though the musician was only a meter away. "He's was mediating."

"Meditating," Vash corrected the maid.

"He was totally talking to spirits in, like, a voodoo language. Can you say creepy?"

"I was talking to myself in Mandarin," the blonde protested.

"That's even worse. Are you sure you want this wacko guarding you, Boss?"

Roderich bit back a snort, and it came out like a cough instead. "Manners, Jillian," he chided. "And I think he'll manage. Go tell the chef we are ready."

Julian gave Vash a deliberately slow once over and let out a dramatic 'hmph' and turned on his heel, silver braids making an arch around him before they fell as he walked off.

"Manners," Roderich reminded him sternly before sighing. "And we'll talk about what you did to those uniforms later." Julian only laughed and sped up his pace. The musician rolled his eyes affectionately and turned towards the bodyguard who was staring at Julian's retreating back with a mix of curiosity and bewilderment.

"How old is she?" Vash asked as the maid ran off giggling, she couldn't have been more than 16, and she acted a bit...immature to say the least.

"He's 15," Roderich replied. The blonde man nodded, his assumptions correct. Then his employer's words reached his brain. Wait...

"He?"

"Yeah," Roderich looked up at and saw one eyebrow was raised in question, the only emotion being shown on the other's blank face.

"It's not like what ever it is you're thinking," Roderich snapped, a bit offended. He calmed himself when the eyebrow slowly went back to its original state. "It's a long story."

Vash pointedly looked at the empty table to show they had time and the brunet sighed.

"I thought he was a girl when we first met, actually weeks after that too. I saw him out on the street trying to sell his original art. I offered him a job at my estate. He refused at first, but a week later after a sudden rainstorm I found him again and repeated my offer. He accepted. Since he was an artist I figured he could handle being a maid, keeping my estsate in its pristine condition. For nearly a month I had no idea that she was in fact not a she until I stumbled onto him changing from a spill on his blouse. I offered to get him a proper uniform, but he refused, saying that it helped him express himself."

Both of Vash's eyebrows rose and then he nodded in understanding.

"I didn't see a problem with it so I let him do as he wished. His real name is Julian, but old habits die hard and most of us just call him Jillian, he doesn't mind. All the maids love him and as you can see, the estate is his playground. He's constantly 'experimenting' or something or other. He's juvenile, yes, but...he's a good kid," Roderich finished, his face softening just a bit, enough for Vash to notice.

"Parents?" the IPA agent had to ask.

"None that he would tell me of. I guess that's probably another reason why I felt compelled to take him in," Roderich mused quietly. "One orphan to another." The last part mumbled seemingly to himself and Vash didn't know how to comment on that. The blonde didn't have time to, however, because at that time the door to the sun room opened and a black haired maid came in pushing a covered cart. The wheels stopped once the cart was close enough to the table and the cover was lifted.

"I hope this is acceptable. Your file said you didn't mind simple meals as long as it wasn't 50% grease."

The corner of Vash's lips twitched just a bit while looking at the soup, salad, and sandwiches that covered the tray. "That's true, and this is fine. Thank you, Mr. Edelstein."

The maid took that as her cue to set the plates on the table, once she was done she gave a polite bow. "Lunch is served, Sir."

"Thank you, Maria," Roderich replied to which the maid bowed once more and retreated from the room.

There was a comfortable silence between the two as each got busy eating their food. Vash raised an eyebrow when the other had used a fork to pick up the sandwich, but said nothing. Likewise Roderich didn't comment on the fact that Vash's salad had more tomatoes than lettuce. To each his own.

"I noticed something," the bodyguard spoke up after a few moments of relative quiet. Roderich raised an eyebrow in question. The bodyguard had only been here a few hours, what could he have possibly noticed? Vash took the sign to continue. "Your maid called you Sir, but Haas calls you Master."

Well that was an easy question to answer. "Haas has been my caretaker since I was young. He worked for my parents, and when they died he became my official guardian. When I was younger it was 'Young Master' but now that I am grown the title is 'Master.' I told him it was strange and he could call me by my given name, but..." Roderich shrugged. "Again, old habits die hard."

Vash nodded, taking in all that the other revealed. After a few more moments of silence, Roderich spoke up again about the original reason for their little get together lunch.

"So about your contract," Roderich started.

"Live in for an undeterminded amount of time," Vash rattled off. "Required to attend all interviews, autograph session, concerts, and even business meetings."

"I apologize in advance for that one," the musician joked. No way would the boisterous and rowdy Mikkel Densen and the tacit and stoic Vash Zwingli mix well. Actually now that Roderich thinks about it, he can't wait to see what would surely be a hilarious sight. "I assume you know why I need you as well."

Vash nodded. "Death threats from a fan's husband or well ex-husband."

"Ridiculous, I know. Mikkel's so paranoid."

"Not really."

The brunet's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "He's not? They're just a bunch of ill written letters." Roderich reasoned.

"For now maybe."

"You think this guy will really try to kill me? Over a divorce he believes I was somehow a cause of?"

Vash couldn't blame the other for being dubious, but it didn't negate the fact that other's have killed for less. "There are strange people in this world, and believe me when I say that in my field of work I've already met a lot of them. Mr. Densen is just worried about you and by hiring me, he's just being cautious."

"Better safe than sorry," Roderich muttered sullenly and his bodyguard fought to keep the smirk off his face when hearing that tone. Instead he used the soup in front of him to keep his mouth busy. A few spoonfuls later, Roderich once again broke the silence.

"What made you join the Intercontinental Protection Agency?" the brunet asked suddenly, trying to understand a little more about his new employee. He had answered the other's question's truthfully as well as shared more with him than anyone else with the exception of his boss, so the musician felt entitled to the same treatment.

That gave the blonde pause as he thought about his answer. Why did he decide to join IPA? "I guess..." Vash started. "It was because I've always hated seeing other people hurt." Voilet eyes were now trained on the agent, soaking in the rare moment that the other wasn't quite so robotic in his replies. "Those who couldn't defend themselves, I would step in and do what I could to protect them."

"Was it your first choice?" Roderich inquired when the other stopped talking.

"I actually thought about going to a police academy, but I came across IPA and the thought of traveling appealed to me. Not to mention the academy taught us a lot of extra skills."

"Like..."

"Another language for one thing."

"Ah, voodoo language?" Roderich teased and he actually got a laughing smile from the other. The musician took a mental picture of the sight because it was rare, and if Roderich was honest, beautiful. All too soon it melted away into the blonde's usual neutral expression, but the other wasn't so annoyed this time.

"Why did you join the music profession?" Vash asked his own question. It didn't take long for Roderich to think of his answer.

"I don't remember much about my birth parents, but apparently they started me on violin lessons early on. My adoptive parents had encouraged my practices, but also had me to learn piano and clarinet as well. When they died, I received this estate along with all the musical instruments in their possession. My first night here I wrote _Mourning Heart, _ a tribute to those I had lost. I didn't really think about making music a career until I came across Yiruma, a Japanese pianist who's music resounded with me, that I started to think that maybe I could do the same. Maybe I could make people _feel_ my music, empathize with the tones."

"Well you succeeded."

"Yeah, apparently a little too well." Roderich gave his employee a bittersweet smile. There were no more words exchanged after that, and the plates were clear of food rather quickly. When the last of the salad was swallowed the musician rose from the table.

"You can spend the rest of this day how ever you wish, same with tomorrow after the tour. The next day, however, I have a radio interview that you'll need to accompany me with."

"How does that work?" the IPA agent felt compelled to ask, getting up as well.

"I'll be in a separate room, but even then I'll have on a disguise."

Interesting, Vash thought to himself. "I thank you for this opportunity to work for you, Mr. Edelstein."

"No need, just do your job. Hopefully it shouldn't take too long to catch this maniac."

Vash nodded, but he couldn't help but feel that he wouldn't mind it taking so long, if it mean the could spend the time getting to know the man across from him.

* * *

><p><strong>Next chapter preview:<strong>

_"Oh my god, I'm NOT asking him that...okay, okay, fine! Um...__Mr. Edelstein?"_

_"Yes," I said as politely as I could manage with my fraying patience._

_"Have you ever...ma-masturbated?"_

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